Chapter 1: Prologue

I don’t know.

'That’s how I responded when she used to ask me the same old question of "When will you be back?". I really didn’t know why she kept asking me? You’d think that after asking so frequently and receiving the same obvious answer, she’d realize that it won’t change, regardless of how many times she kept insisting on asking such a redundant question. Even if she asked it differently, even if she asked it more nicely, and even if asked with a small bribe in hand, it wouldn’t change anything, not a thing, it just wouldn’t. Why couldn’t she understand that though?'

'The nightly endeavor I’m on that she chose to pester me about is something I do almost every night during the winter season. Though I’m not out really because I want to, as it’s an issue of necessity for me rather than leisure, it’s something that I look forward to every night. In fact, I think it wouldn’t really be that far-fetched to say that it’s the only reason I even bother to come out anymore at all.'

'My reasons were sound. Even despite the more than unfortunate conditions of the frigid, winter breeze, my reasons were sound. Why? Well, it’s for the same reason you wouldn’t want to go out when it’s cold in the first place: because it’s unpleasant. Going out, for me, just happened to be less unpleasant. Compared to what? To the practically useless piece of rotting flesh that only brings a world of protrusions and pain for me. My right arm.’'

'So...? How does the cold play a part in that? Shouldn’t it be obvious? (Obviously it isn’t). But come on, think about it. I was just going on and on about how much unpleasantness my arm causes me in contrast to the cold. Take a guess. Why do you think the cold is preferable to my arm? What’s the difference, what has to change? …I’ll spell it out for you. It’s my pain. It’s better when it’s cold, that’s it. But then you’d ask, Why not just lower the thermostat? And then I’d have to answer with the truth. Which would be: where I’m heading is the only place I can actually fall asleep. Even in the apartment I live alone in, I can't ever seem to drift off. I know it sounds crazy, which is partly why I tried to lie, but I don't know why.'

'The not-so fashionable streets that sloped up and down in random intervals were what I had to cross if I wanted to get to the spot. A few streetlights, a few crosswalks, a few light posts, and even a few people were the common additions to my frequent commute. I never stopped to glance at them, but I knew that they were there. Really, my only goal was that spot, and I would reach for it only with tunnel vision. Besides, it wasn’t like I wanted to stop and take in the environment, anyway.'

'After a while, a gate to the familiar park materialized before me, defending its deserted contents from outsiders. If you peered between its steel bars, an array of trees pointed at you, its dead leaves strewn around them, acting as sentries, cautioning people to stay away. Obviously, I was welcomed in its arctic belly, as I had gone in without permission many times before. Surely, they wouldn’t mind this time either.'

'My steps were meaningful and succinct as I opened the rusted gate and limped my way towards the spot. My sneakers squealed as they trampled the concrete. My breath was bated and had a form in the air in front of me. The spot quickly came into arm’s distance, giving way to the cool black bench of my dreams. I made it.'

'I sat, and the familiar feeling of the metal in the bench searing the backs of my legs enveloped me. My chin rested on the piece of the bench adjacent to where I sat on the double. I succumbed without resistance. I gradually experienced the regular drowsiness associated with sleep. And eventually, my eyes began to droop and continued to fall until they totally closed.'

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